


To belong

by tussanus_postea



Series: Hogwarts Weyr [1]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, People as Dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16337150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tussanus_postea/pseuds/tussanus_postea
Summary: It doesn't matter if you have no family, no relations, if you're too tall or too wild. The only thing that matters is your dragon, and Hagrid just hope he'll matter to one.- or, the Pern!Hagrid AU no one asked for ?





	To belong

« Shards, would you look at the size of this lad? He'll never Impress at that age, poor thing ! »

  
Hagrid flinched, hunching his shoulders as he heard the shrill voices of two wrinkled Holdwomen in the stands. The tall, curly haired weyrbrat fought the urge to raise his own voice and tell them that he was only eleven turns old, but couldn't find the force to do so.

Taking a big breath, he turned his attention towards the other candidates, not raising to the bait. So what if he was taller than even the oldest kids ? Size didn't matter to a Dragonrider, to its dragon. There were muscular dragonriders as well as tiny or thin weyrwoman, and the dragons didn't show a preference in bodytype. If they did, everyone would know about it and they would only present children that fitted that type. But they didn't, and so they picked who they thought might be worthy, hoping they wouldn't be wrong. Like he hoped.

 

A'bus, their Weyrleader, appeared near the sandpit, ushering all the kids into it and smiled at him as he passed, pressing an hand to his shoulder. Wearing his best robes and signature white beard, the tall man was still ale and healty at nearly fifty turns. His Alberforth had risen and mated Queenie's Tinath without difficulty – the willowy blond woman, who could read every dragon's mind, and her independent queen were known to be picky, and everyone was still marveling at that odd pairing.

Not that A'bus ever lay with Queenie during a mating flight. It was the talk of all the Weyr and Holds that their Weyrwoman was in love with their Master Baker, Jacob. You had to be blind not to see how smitten they both were. Even Tinath, with her odd affinity with N'wton – wingleader and rider of bronze Credenth – seemed to have taken a liking to him.

If the rumors were true, N'wton would become Weyrleader next time Tinath rose. Credenth had almost won the race last time, so it was only a matter of time before he did. It made Hagrid sad for A'bus, who'd been the closest thing to a father figure in his life. His mother had died birthing him and his birth father, a thin and sickly drudge, had fallen to his death two turns ago in the narrow stone carved staircase of Hogwarts' Weyr. He wasn't the only orphan living in the caves, but he'd never truly been one of them, too tall to play their games and too nice to bully the younger kids.

 

Joining the rest of the children, he walked towards Eileen, flowing into her too big white robe, who squeaked to his chest a « Good luck ! », that pulled him out of his thoughts. At eight turns old, she was the youngest today, and no one expected her to impress, but she was buzzing with fear and excitement all the same. Next to her, Myrtle waved at him, looking serious for once. He nodded to her, awkward as always around his almost-sibling. They'd been raised together but didn't have anything in common, except their inability to make friends.

Almost all the girls were circling the biggest egg of the clutch : gold, taller than they were, speckled with white. Their next queen. Five of the candidates sported the same looks, differing only in size : dark hair and black eyes, typical of the Black family. Hagrid thought they looked pretty in white, the golden sand shining on their skin.

Wincing at the heat of the volcanic sand, he took a position next to Eileen. If A'bus was right – and he always was – a new Queen so soon after Tinath's own hatching meant that the Interval was coming to an end. Clutches would increase in size and there would be many more dragonriders to combat Threads.

He didn't know if he was jittery with nerves or impatience at the idea of Thread coming back, but flying against them, fighting them was a dream of his. He knew that if – when the Red Star came back, many Dragonriders would be injured, or even die, and he didn't wish for it to happen, but to take to the skies with a purpose...

 

His mind in the air, Hagrid missed most of A'bus' speech and did not hear the whispers adressed his way : he dwarfed all the other candidates, even Blenheim, a good-loking nineteen turns old, coming from Ista, or Cedrella, the oldest Black girl. She stood next to him, contrary to her four cousins and sisters, which meant she wanted a Blue or Green. He remembered suddenly that her older sister, Callidora, had Impressed a green four turns ago.

It was only when she bumped him that he stood back to attention. The dragons were beginning to hum, and his fear rose sharply. It was the moment ! What if he wasn't good enough ? What if he never Impressed ? He knew it wouldn't be his last Hatching, but he wanted to be chosen now ! The Weyr was his home, the only place he'd known since birth, and had replaced his family. He'd grown up playing and hiding in the sinuous caverns of the carved mountain, polished its Great Hall time and time again. To be rejected from Hatching would mean rejection from his house.

 

Silence fell upon the sandpit for one shared heartbeat, before every dragon began to sing anew, making his core and bones vibrate. A Harper apprentice, Blodwyn, fresh out of his Hall, gasped to his right, overwhelmed.

Twelve eggs stood before them in a perfect circle around the Queen's, cracking or swaying lightly.

Hagrid found out he could'nt breathe anymore. Everytime Tinath's song rose, he shook harder. To his left, an egg cracked open in two perfect halves, making the spectators and dragons cheer : a bronze, upside down and clawing furiously at the soil.

A good omen, but the tall boy did not even move from his place as Blenheim rushed to right the squalling dragon, tears on his tanned face. The fisherman – Dragonrider Bl'neim – cried to everyone listening.

« His name is Ilfrath ! », making them cheer again.

 

A green hatched next, bypassing the boys and girls trying to attract its attention, making a beeline for Eileen and catching her by surprise where she stood, head turned towards the golden egg. Dragonet and girl fell in the sand but a moment later, the shy, holdbred olive girl was feeding her tiny « Seventh » huge chunks of fresh meat, her white dress in disarray and a huge smile on her face.

Two blue caught Orion and Cedrella soon after, making the cousins weep and the whole Black clan – which had always contributed to the bloodlines of Hogwarts' Dragonriders, back to the First Crossing – cheer and holler in pride. Slyth and Sylth, identical down to the last scales, were already leaving the pit, led by their oblivious riders.

Still Hagrid didn't move. He wasn't sure he even could, his limbs cold and hot at the same time, as if he'd gotten a fever. His eyes were zipping between the eggs left, trying to make a choice, to step towards one, but he was too terrified of rejection to manage a single step.

Another green, for Myrtle, to be named Olith. A brown, for a weyrbrat Hagrid vaguely knew, Bilath.

 

Six eggs left, and the Queen. The air vibrated from the heat and dragonsongs. He couldn't hear them.

Another bronze at last, and a big one, with red eyes that raised murmurs of praise from the old weyrwomens. Hagrid crossed his gaze and stepped back, wincing at the coldness he could already feel from the hatchling. To no one's surprise, Tom – M'volo, as he wanted to be called – claimed him and named him Naginth, leading him towards the caves without a single smile.

Then the golden egg began to shake, and everyone held their breath. Lucretia and Walburga bullied their way to the front, Charis and Dorea making sure behind them that the rest of the candidates wouldn't slip through. It wasn't fair, Hagrid suddenly thought, that mean, old Charis could end with a queen, that all the Black got dragons and took it for granted, when he just wanted to belong.

Two browns and a blue hatched in almost indifference, choosing their riders, while they all waited for their new queen and weyrwoman. The large egg was cracking and everyone could hear a faint sound, like a baby crying, as the dragonet finally pushed her head out of her shell. She looked like she wore a crown of white marble – she had yolk and eggshell smeared on her forehead, but she was already strong and vicious.

The gold queen lashed out suddenly at the rest of her egg, making one girl fall as her tail collided with her shins, and swivelled her large bloodied forehead on Lucretia.

As soon as that, the hautish blonde girl beamed, opening her arms – knocking Walburga's nose with an elbow in the process. It didn't bother dragon and chosen, as the Black brood roared their approval to the skies. They had a new queen. Howgarts' weyr had the most of all : four, including old Bathilda and her Bealdith.

 

None of that mattered to Hagrid, as one last egg still stood on the sand. Blood and yolk dirtied the ground all around, the remaining candidates were leaving the arena, dejected. That egg hadn't moved in the entire ceremony, and it was known to happen. It meant hope lost and dreams shattered in as many grains of sand this arena contained, as big, fat, tears swelled in Hagrid's eyes, but it happened. He'd hoped so much that things would work out, that he'd find a purpose to his life, a partner in his mind. He'd hoped to gain approval in his wingmates's eyes, to bring warmth into the Headwoman's embrace.

He'd hoped for a friend.

Trying to keep from openly crying, he took a small step forward, wobbling on shaky legs that spoke of heartbreak. Almost all of the spectators had already left the stands, going to the Feast to drink and eat, but Tinath was still here, and N”wton with her, solemny guarding that last hatchling.

Taking another step, feeling the sobs forming in his mouth beginning to escape, the boy rose a trembling hand to the shell, already cooling under the setting sun. A terrible noise arose, and he belatledly found out it was coming out of him, like a wounded wherry's last cry, as he stroke the smooth surface of the egg, mourning its dragonet and what could have been's.

Another sob, and he stepped back, carefully keeping his head down, wanting nothing more now than to flee to his chamber and spend the night alone.

Another step, and a flash of gold in his eyes, as a voice older than he was, brighter than he would ever be, warmer than a day out on Ista's coast, rose out of his head, making it feel lighter than it had been in a long time.

“ _Not so fast, my Rider. I am very hungry_.”

Falling to his knees, Hagrid missed how the egg apparently imploded, revealing bronze scales and happy eyes. He missed how Queenie and N'wton laughed as their dragons thrilled for their newborn. He missed the running sounds of a dozen children coming back to see him turn his head and meet his dragon's eyes for the first time, opening a door in his spirit that he would never shut back.

He missed it all, as he was submerged by emotions, words jumbling and fading through his mind, never enough to described what he was feeling, what his dragon was feeling – they were one and the same, bonded for the rest of their lives.

The young bronze opened his mouth and thrilled to the skies, crawling to its huge rider and huddling in his arms.

“ _I am Norberth, and I need you_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! I have a bit more planned for Harry's own imprint (maybe the whole first year), so don't hesitate to suscribe to the series if you liked it :)


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